


A Messy Divorce

by In_the_grey_sky



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Blood, Choking, Enemies to Lovers, Fights, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_the_grey_sky/pseuds/In_the_grey_sky
Summary: Set in 2017. Christian is blaming the Renault engine, Cyril doesn't like it. Things get physical.
Relationships: Cyril Abiteboul/Christian Horner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	A Messy Divorce

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I'm finally posting my fic for this pairing. This iconic duo deserves more fics! <3
> 
> This one is *intense*, beware of the tags. Also, don't hesitate to tell me if you spot grammar/spelling mistakes (since I'm not native).
> 
> Kudos and comments appreciated, as always :) Hope you'll like it!

Christian had blamed the Renault engine for RedBull's own failure again. The news was all over f1 media. The Brit had taken advantage of Cyril's absence at the press conference to talk shit. Cyril was gripping his phone hard, fighting his desire to throw it away. He needed to talk to Christian soon. To warn him. He couldn't be disrespected like that. The brand's image was at stake.

That night, he couldn't sleep, rolling around in his bed. He had always been anxious the night before a race, and Christian's word were still plaguing his mind. That, and the shitty year Renault was having. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and typed:

_Are you up??_

He and the team were staying at a hotel in Abu Dhabi, not far away from the track. He knew RedBull was there too. He didn't expect Christian to answer - he was probably sleeping, anyway- , but he was just desperate to have a word with him.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed on his chest, making his heart jump.

_I'm at the bar. Want to join us?_

How dare he act like nothing happened? How dare he act _friendly_ after what he just did? Cyril got dressed and got out of his bedroom, his heart beating fast in his ribcage.

He spotted Christian sitting at the counter with a few of RedBull's members, laughing at their jokes with a smile that made his eyes light up. He really didn't care, didn't he? He was shit stirring, hurting people to save his own ass, and then he was laughing. Having fun. While Cyril couldn't even sleep without thinking about him.

Cyril stormed to him, not giving a damn people could see him. When he arrived at Christian's level, he gripped the hem of his shirt and yelled in his face.

"Don't say that again, you little fuck. I'll make you regret it”

He was quickly grabbed and pushed away by Christian's friends.

“For fuck's sake man! Calm down!”

“It's nothing guys. Just Squirrel's anger issues", said Christian, readjusting the collar of his shirt. His unbothered persona was driving Cyril mad. He jumped in Christian's direction but was held back by two men grabbing his arms to restrain him.

“Do you want me to call the cops? Is that what you want?”

“Don't, guys. He's harmless”, said Christian, dismissive. Cyril's clenched his fists, frustration growing in him.

“We'll talk later”, he said, looking into Christian's eyes with intent. _When no one is around_.

Christian's green stare was intense for a moment, until he turned around, hinting the interaction was over.

Cyril was released and pushed back. “Don't do that again, mate.”

He looked at Christian one last time, sitting on the stool with his back turned, emptying his glass of whisky in one gulp. Reality crashed onto him. He could feel the people in the room starring at him, their faces full of shock. He hurried to the lift, adrenaline still running in his veins. How stupid had he been to think an interaction with Christian would calm his mind.

Before the metallic door opened and he could go back to his room and cry himself to sleep, he received a text message from Christian:

_248_

He smiled to himself and pressed the second floor's button.

When he entered the bedroom, Christian was discarding his suit jacket on the bed, looking calmer than ever. Eyeing at Cyril, he cuffed the hem of his white shirt, exposing his forearms. The artificial light of the room was giving a surreal aura to the scene. 

"What did you say to them?" Cyril asked.

"That I was tired. You ruined our little party."

"And you ruined my fucking day”

"Pissy. You want a fight, Squirrel?"

"Stop calling me that."

"I think it fits you. Squirrel Irritable, always pissy his engine won't work."

Christian's singing, mocking tone made Cyril's blood boil. He rushed to him and gripped his collar, almost lifting him up from the ground. Christian's eyes widened, but his surprise quickly turned into a vicious gleam.

The kick went right in Cyril's balls, taking his breath away and making him twist in pain.

"You okay, Cyril?"

" _Fuck you_ ", Cyril hissed through his teeth.

"Pathetic."

Cyril tried to ignore the pain, gritting his teeth. What a _bastard_.

He rose up and pushed Christian back, making him stumble. Before Christian had time to regain his senses, he stepped forward and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him backward until he was pinned against the wall.

Christian couldn’t move, trapped between the wall and Cyril’s body. His small stature was more evident than ever. It surged a rush of power in Cyril’s veins. He got closer, using his height advantage to intimidate him.

"Don't blame Renault again" he threatened, looking right into Christian’s eyes. "You get me? You want me to hit you to understand?"

Christian was staring up at him, his green eyes not backing down for a second.

"I advise you to protect your balls this time, Cyril."

" _Non_ " he cried, rising his knee up to avert Christian's move. The kick lodged on his thigh.

Before he had time to hit back, Christian grabbed him by the back of his neck, pushing him down. The position was purposely humiliating, Cyril’s head crushing against Christian’s belly, his face pushed near Christian's groin.

Cyril punched him in stomach a few times, making the grip on his neck loosen. He rose up, grabbed Christian’s throat with one hand and slapped him with the other. The back of Christian's head hit the wall and his lower lip started to bleed.

Cyril stared at the little trail of blood going down Christian's chin, his eyes going wide. He flinched, loosening his grip on Christian's throat.

“Are you okay?” he said, breathless.

“It's nothing”, replied Christian, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand.

Cyril realized he had just totally lost control. He took a step back, taking deep breaths to calm down, ignoring the adrenaline telling him to draw more blood.

“Let's stop there", he said, jaw clenching. “Before this ends badly.”

“ _No_ " spat Christian, stepping forward and grabbing Cyril’s wrist. "Don't you dare leave right now.” 

“ _Lâche-moi_ ”, Cyril pled, trying to get out of his grip.

Christian threw himself on him, grabbing him by the hips, trying to make him lose balance. Cyril resisted until Christian tripped him, making him fall backward. He landed on his ass, Christian’s body crushing him, laying down on top of him. He grabbed Christian's shirt and tried throw him away.

“Not this time” Christian mumbled, grabbing Cyril’s wrists and pinning them against the carpet. Cyril couldn't move, no matter how he resisted. It set a panic in him, all his senses becoming alert.

Christian flashed a smile before he spat on Cyril's face, his bloody saliva landing on Cyril's cheek.

“You're a coward”, he said.

Cyril closed his eyes, his pulse beating in his ears. The humiliation was deafening.

“Let me go”, he urged, trying not to making sound like a plea.

“No. You stay right there.”

When he opened his eyes, Christian was looking at him, his pupils blown wide. His irises had never looked that green and is expression that alive. It took Cyril's breath away.

Christian leaned on him, looking amused. He was so close Cyril could smell the remnants of whisky in his breath. Cyril’s pulse quickened, heat rising in his cheeks.

Christian stopped a few inches away from his face. His pink tongue darted on his bloody lip, tasting the copper. Cyril followed the movement, licking his own lips. It had no right to be this hot.

“Want a taste?” said Christian.

That sent a shiver down Cyril's spin.

“Christian”, he warned.

“Don't play coy.”

God, he had imagined tasting those lips so many times. He just needed to close the gap and that was it. He could always blame it on the adrenaline, on the heat of the moment. That wasn't how he imagined their first kiss to go, though.

“Let me go first”, he said, exposing his throat in defiance.

“You think I don't know you? As soon as I'll let you go, you'll flee. It's what you always do. You have a big mouth but you never do anything.”

Cyril's jaw clenched, a spike of revolt growing in him at Christian’s provocation. He was a man of his words, always had been. And he came here to make Christian pay, so he would. Before thinking twice, he kicked Christian's back with his knee as hard as he could. Christian gasped, wincing in pain. Cyril hit him with his knee again, not caring about his own pain. As Christian tried to grab his leg, Cyril flipped their position around.

He pinned Christian down, putting all his weight on his body, trying to prevent him from moving. Christian gripped him by the hips and tried to flip them around, but Cyril quickly got himself on his knees and sat down on Christian's torso, crushing his ribcage.

“Who's on top now?” he said, smiling in victory.

He clenched his thighs around Christian's face, adding pressure around his throat. Christian's face turned red from the obstructed airflow. The sight was oddly satisfying. When he released the pressure, a smile grew on Christian's face, exposing a range of bloody teeth.

“Someone's enjoying this way too much”, Christian said, not hiding his amusement.

Cyril blinked, following Christian's look on his groin. He had a hard on. There was no place for _doubt_ , given the position he was in. Embarrassment creeped all the way to his neck and cheeks. _Damn, he was so fucked up_.

Christian chuckled, amused by his sudden realization.

“Shut up” Cyril ordered, tugging at Christian's hair. His frustration amused Christian even more.

"You should have seen your face"

"It's not funny"

"It is, for me. Innocent Cyril getting off on choking me."

"It's not like that", Cyril stuttered, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Really?"

"No."

_It's so much more than that_ , he almost blurted out to defend himself. God, he needed to put some distance between them right now before making a mistake. He crawled out of Christian's body, not trusting his legs, and sat against the edge of the bed. He rose his knees up to hide the 'incident'. Christian was still laying on the carpet floor, catching his breath. He glanced at Cyril. 

“Look at you, crying with a hard on”, he said, mocking.

He was clearly aiming for another round, but Cyril didn't take the bait. He was quit playing games, already retiring in his own mental space. 

Christian slowly got himself into a sitting position, his body still battered from the battle. He crawled toward Cyril and sat next to him, their shoulders touching in the process. The contact was electrifying, almost uncomfortable. They stayed in silence for a good moment, tension still in the air.

"It's my job." Christian said at one point, breaking the silence. “You know how Doctor Marko is."

Cyril noticed the heavy change of the subject, relief coming to him. Damn Christian for making him forget why he was here in the first place.

“I know it's your job. I'm not stupid", he replied, his throat getting tight. “But it hurts... Seeing you act like you don't care. Like you don't give a fuck about me.”

“I do.”

“It doesn't feel like that”, he replied, heart still fluttering from Christian's admission. Fuck. They had been friends at one point. They used to support each other. It seemed like such a long time ago.

“Well... This is probably not the right moment to make this announcement but..." Christian's eyes were cast down, he was twiddling his thumbs. "I don't think you want to learn it from the media, this time."

"Spill it. I don't fucking care right now."

"The deal is over next year. We're going with Honda.”

Christian's words were like a knife in Cyril's chest.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Cyril gulped. Well, he had tried. He had put all his energy into making this work. It didn't. They were doomed from the beginning, and it was crystal clear now. Twelve years of collaboration gone because of him. He was the only one to blame. He had made false promises and then he hadn't delivered. He had failed. He fought the urge to cry, adrenaline leaving off his body, making him feel weak.

"I'm sorry" he said, for Christian and for himself.

Christian put his head on Cyril's shoulder, his cheek resting on the thin cotton of his t-shirt. It spread warm in Cyril’s chest, the light weight on his shoulder grounding him, Christian's smell invading his nose.

He knew this would be the closest he would get to an apology, for this mess, and all the shit Christian had said. He bathed into the quiet feeling, closing his eyes.

“I'm not that surprised” Cyril said, when his thoughts were sorted out. “It needed to happen eventually.”

“It's better for everyone.”

_For both of us_ , Cyril echoed, his face turning to look at Christian. He was so close, his head resting on his shoulder, not moving an inch. A silent tear was falling from his eye, landing on Cyril's t-shirt, joining the little wet dots that were already there. Cyril's heart fluttered, his ribcage tightening. 

“How are you balls, by the way?” said Christian, breaking the moment. They both chuckled.

“They're fine” replied Cyril, a coy smile on his lips. Christian's way of hiding his embarrassment was quite cute.

From here, he couldn't see the expression on his face, but the cut on his lips was visible. The cut _he_ had made. He gulped, guilt crushing him.

“Let me see?” he said, grabbing Christian's chin with his shaky hand. Christian let himself be guided, lifting his head up, too tired to play resist. The cut on Christian’s lips was closed, blood had dried out on his chin. Cyril lightly stroked the wound with his thumb, unable to resist. Christian whimpered- from the pain or from the contact, Cyril didn't know.

“It's okay” Cyril whispered, looking into Christian's eye. The mischievous gleam in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by pure exhaustion and a tad of anticipation. Or maybe he was imagining it. He got closer, not sure it was a good moment.

Christian mumbled something incomprehensible, his eyes cast down, ears visibly reddening. It was the confirmation Cyril needed. He gave a quick peck on Christian's lips, pulling back immediately to avoid rejection.

"Told you I would kiss you", he said, as a justification.

And fuck, Christian’s lips were on him so fast Cyril jumped. The kiss wasn't perfectly synchronized, their teeth colliding in the process, their nose bumping into one another, but it made Cyril's whole body lit. Christian was kissing him like he was desperate, his hot mouth searching for tongue, hungry. He tasted like whiskey and blood, just like Cyril imagined.

He urged Christian closer, putting his hand on his nape, extending his legs to make room for him to sit. Christian didn't lose time, rising up on his knees, his hand taking balance on Cyril's thigh.

" _Aïe_ " Cyril hissed, breaking the kiss. He was bruised from the kick in the balls he had avoided.

They both chuckled, their forehead touching. Christian stroked the bruised spot on Cyril’s thigh a few times as if to heal it, his hot palm heating up the skin though the jeans. Cyril melted from the touch. He felt like a fucking teenager all over again.

Christian sat on Cyril's thighs, not close enough for their groins to touch, but still enough to spread fire in Cyril’s body. The position was uncomfortable, the edge of the bed hurting Cyril's back, Christian's weight crushing his thighs, but he didn't care.

In this position, Christian a bit taller than him, which was a strange and endearing change. He tilted his head back, resting on the soft bedsheets behind him, pulling Christian's lips against his. He buried his hand in Christian's hair, taking it slow, making their tongues dance and enjoying every second of it.

"You're doing better than I expected", Christian whispered against his lips.

"You expected?"

"You should see the looks you’re giving me sometimes.”

Cyril blinked a few times, a tad too much to be innocent.

"Which looks?"

Christian got closer.

"Do I need to remind you the one you gave me when I was laying on top of you?"

Cyril flushed, a nervous smile growing on his lips. Having Christian laying on top of him was something he would gladly experience again, under other circumstances.

"You were cheating", he said, forcing his mind to take another direction.

"How so?"

"I thought you were going to kiss me."

"You made it hard not to", Christian admitted. His cheeks reddened at his own phrasing, a smile growing at the corner of his lips. Cyril huffed.

"Come here", he said, pulling at Christian's nape, impatient to taste his lips again.

He almost lost it when Christian started to kiss and nip at his neck, his hot palm sneaking under his t-shirt, stroking his his belly up to his chest. He pulled Christian closer, breathing his smell in, feeling the moment. His body was a hormonal mess, but his mind felt clearer than it had ever been.

_They needed each other._

And he was right to come to Christian, in the end. Their divorce was already more exciting than their marriage had ever been.


End file.
